Beloved
by Night Lotus Blossom
Summary: Love is eternal. What has been before will be again. Contains spoilers through the end of Season 3 of "Chuck." This was written for the Jellie Shippers 2010 Carnival Challenge. A glossary of Romini terms can be found at the end of this chapter.


**Title**: Beloved

**Author**: Night_Lotus

**Rating**: NC-17

**Word Count: **

**Chapter: **1/2

**Disclaimer: **I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but because of the creative genius of Chris Fedak and Joshua Schwartz, I am thankful for the opportunity to play in their sandbox.

**Summary**: Love is eternal. What has been before will be again.

**Author's Note**: Contains spoilers through the end of Season 3 of "Chuck." This was written for the Jellie_Shippers 2010 Carnival Challenge, using the prompt, "Gypsy." A glossary of Romini language terms can be found at the end of this chapter. All mistakes and inaccuracies are mine. Thank you to KuryakinGirl and GoddessofBirth for previewing this.

_1511, Eastern Europe_

Miniature flames were reflected in the dark-haired man's vibrant blue gaze as he watched her dance around the bonfire with the other women of their clan, their hands clasped, forming a human chain as their bodies undulated and flowed in time with the keening of the violin and the crackling of the flames.

The blazing orange tongues of the fire licked at the night sky and gilded her in their sultry, honeyed glow. The circles of gold adorning her ears winked in the firelight, and her long, sable hair flowed loose and free behind her as the red silk skirt swirled around her legs and caressed her ankles. Her ruffled white blouse was open at the neck, and as she threw her head back in laughter, he witnessed a single bead of perspiration trace its way down the slender column of her throat, coming to settle between her breasts.

There were many beautiful women in their clan and for a man to claim any one of them as his own would be considered a boon. There was but one for him though, and it was she. They were to be married tomorrow, thus fulfilling the prophecy made at birth.

_Several Years Earlier…_

As the pregnant woman lie writhing in the final, agonizing moments before giving birth, the wizened healer bent over her, placing a weathered hand atop her swollen belly, smoothing the dark hair away from her damp forehead with the gnarled fingers of her other hand, as she murmured words of encouragement.

Her body twisted in the sheets, and her fingers dug into the straw-filled mattress, desperately seeking purchase and relief from the pain. "It is almost time," soothed the old woman as she positioned herself between the woman's open legs, ordering her to bear down. She raised herself onto her elbows and pushed with all of her remaining might, and he came forth and greeted the world with a loud and lusty cry, as his mother allowed her upper body to sink back down onto the mattress, her strength temporarily depleted.

The crone looked at the baby reverently, as she gently cleaned him and wrapped him in swaddling. "He will be the guardian and protector of our people," she sagaciously declared as she placed him in the anxiously waiting arms of his mother. He shall be king of the _Rom_, and his queen will soon be born. The new mother gathered her newborn son in her arms and smiled when brilliant, knowing blue eyes met hers. She pressed a kiss to his tiny forehead. "You are a wise one already, my son," she murmured, trailing her fingers through the fine, downy black hair atop his head. The baby gurgled contentedly in response and both mother and son drifted off to sleep.

As it was foretold, a handful of years later, his queen was born, bearing rich chestnut hair and adorned with beautiful, laughing, hazel-colored eyes.

Tomorrow, he would become king and she his queen. He could not remember a time without her, nor did he ever want to imagine it.

They had been inseparable since they were children. When she learned to walk, her first steps on chubby, wobbly legs led her tottering straight to him.

Each year, as soon as the caravan of colorful wagons descended into the valley of their summer home and camp was made, she shucked her leather boots and ran barefoot, headlong into the meadow of wildflowers, her hair and long skirts billowing behind her. He immediately gave chase, following her to ensure that she didn't get too close to the _gaje_ town folk who did not understand their ways and might seek to take advantage of her goodness and kind nature.

She spent long days in the meadow, carefully selecting brilliantly colored flowers and weaving them into crowns, bracelets and necklaces, presenting them as gifts to her clans people. She saved the finest for him though. He bowed his head as she slipped the long, circular strand of snowy white daisies around his neck, their golden centers reminiscent of tiny suns. Daisies were her favorite, and she selected them with the utmost care.

Any of the boys or men that considered making fun of him for wearing it proudly as he walked with her back into camp at sunset, immediately thought better of it when they recognized the warning glint in his eye. Although he was still an adolescent, he was already strapping and strong, and the people recognized his strength and respected their future leader.

The bubbly sound of her light-hearted laughter brought him back from his musings, and he rose from his seat on the hard-packed ground, brushing off his clothing as he strode to and climbed aboard the ornately carved and painted wagon that was their home. The sounds of the continuing celebration carried to his ears as he stretched out in bed.

When she came to him in the still dark hours before the dawn, the harvest moon hung low and gravid, and the stars sparkled like diamonds strewn across the black velvet sky. As their bodies met, he delighted in the feel of her skin, which was still flushed and heated from the fire and her dancing. Their limbs entwined, and he kissed her slowly and deeply, savoring the taste and feel of her, imprinting her essence in his memory and etching it upon on his soul.

She felt complete as he moved within her and she rocked her hips up to meet his. Their passion burned hot and deliberate as he trailed searing kisses down her throat, biting down on the sensitive flesh where her neck met her shoulder, causing her to cry out and arch her back as her nails scored the flesh of his broad, muscular back. Their love blazed white hot as they moved as one, reaching a molten, fiery crescendo together, holding and anchoring each other. As the flames of their passion quelled, he turned to his side, bringing her with him. She curled into him and sighed contentedly as she felt his arms wrap around her, securing her there. "Goodnight _ves'tacha_,"she murmured sleepily. He threaded his fingers through her long, silky hair, his gentle caresses lulling her to sleep. "Goodnight my love."

Their wedding day dawned bright and beautiful and their entire clan gathered in the meadow, which was in full bloom, the wildflowers creating a glorious carpet beneath their feet as they walked hand in hand toward the clan elder who was to marry them.

She wore a flowing multi-colored skirt woven from silk and shot through with silver thread and an off the shoulder white lace blouse, both lovingly stitched by the women of her clan. Simple gold hoops adorned her earlobes and a crown of daisies rested atop her head. He wore tailored ebony-colored breeches with a matching silk shirt and crimson vest. A single-stemmed daisy was tucked into the breast pocket of his vest.

After a brief walk, they came to stand before the clan elder and the simple ceremony began.

The wizened, diminutive man cleared his throat. "Today, we gather to affirm this man and this woman as our king and queen and unite them in marriage. Today they fulfill their destiny as it has been prophesized, and lead our people into the future."

The elder handed a razor-sharp blade to the man, who cupped her face in his large hand, looking her in the eyes and caressing her cheek with the slightly roughened pad of his thumb. He gathered a thick strand of her hair, slowly winding it around his forefinger, and cut it off at the base. He handed her the cutting tool and bent slightly, allowing her access to his head full of dark locks.

She wanted nothing more than to touch her lips to his, kissing him until nothing else existed except them, but she knew this would come later. Instead, she reached up and caressed his face, their eyes meeting and holding. If she wasn't careful, she could get lost there forever. A smile tugged at his lips, and his blue eyes filled with mirth. The urge to kiss him, this time at the corners of his mouth, where the tiny smile lines deepened as his grin grew wider, was much stronger this time. She forced herself to look away and reached up, cutting off a lock of his hair. They handed the locks of hair to the elder who plaited them together into a single, endless circle.

Individual wooden chairs were then brought to the bride and groom, who sat next to each other, facing their people. A young boy, dressed in his best finery, brought a small loaf of bread and a carved oak salt cellar, complete with a tiny silver spoon, which he handed to the elder. The elderly man broke the loaf in half, handing both halves to the groom, who placed one on each of the bride's knees. The elder stood in front of the bride and sprinkled salt on both pieces. The bride and groom each picked up a portion and ate it, symbolizing a harmonious future together.

After finishing the bread, the couple stood once again, facing the elder. He removed two hammered gold rings from his vest pocket, holding one in each hand, lifting them up for the gathered crowd to see. The rings glowed in the sunlight, and he began. "As these rings are circular and continuous, so is your love and devotion to each other. There is no beginning and no end, only eternity."

He handed the smaller ring to the man and the larger one to the woman. The groom took the left hand of his beloved and gently slipped the ring on her finger as he quietly murmured words meant only for her to hear. She smiled adoringly at him and a delicate pink blush colored her cheeks.

She then took his much larger hand in hers and slid the ring onto his finger. She stood on her tiptoes, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder, urging him to bend down so she could gently whisper her vows in his ear. He obliged his bride and placed an arm around her waist, drawing her closer as he brought his ear to her lips. Her warm, whispered promises caressed the inside of his ear, and their permanence wound its way around his heart.

After the couple finished sharing their vows, they turned to face the crowd, the elder standing between them. The older man took one of their hands in each of his and lifted their arms to the sky. He focused on the large crowd, which was his family, and intoned "Today is a day of celebration and a day of joy, where we have just witnessed the joining of our Rom _Baro_ and his _Kralisi_. They are the heart and soul of our people and will lead us into the future with bravery, determination and compassion."

The elder then removed his hands and joined theirs together. For them, at that very moment, time stood still and they were in a universe of their own creation. They reached for each other and held on tight as their lips came together and sealed their union. A lusty cheer went up from the crowd, and the celebration began in earnest. Food, spirits, music and dancing flowed well into the wee morning hours as the Rom paid tribute to their new king and queen. As gray, watery light painted the pre-dawn sky, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms after a long, pleasurable night of revelry and love making. "Good night, _ves'tacha,_" she murmured. "Good night my love," he answered.

Throughout the many years of their rule, they kept their clan together, strengthening it and nurturing it. They forged alliances with other clans and created stable, but not overly familiar accords, with the _gaje _wherever they made their traveling home. He was their guardian, she their healer. They raised strong and loving sons and daughters and were gifted with a passel of adorable grandchildren who also learned and grew at the knees of their grandparents.

The first touch of autumn chill laced the night air and the camp's many fires blazed, popping and cracking in defiance of the cold. They stood, arms around each other, gazing out at their family, their people, with love and pride. Their tribe was strong and unified, while still maintaining the easy wanderlust that truly allowed them to be free. She looked up at him and smiled. "It is a beautiful night. It has been far too long since we slept out under the stars." He looked upon her lovingly in response and went with her to their wagon to gather their bedding.

They snuggled under the blankets, plump pillows under their heads with the warmth of the steadily burning fire chasing away the cold. As she did every night, she curled up in his embrace, allowing his strength and warmth to infuse and comfort her. Her hair, which fanned out across his chest, while still long and beautiful, was mostly snowy white, with a few dark strands woven through. He threaded his fingers through the soft tresses, resting his chin atop her head, the silver stubble on his chin catching in the fire light. "Good night _ves'tacha_" she said, snuggling close. "Good night my love," he replied, drawing her nearer. He held her that way for how long, he didn't quite know, memorizing the feel of her body molded to his. As her breathing slowed and eventually stopped, he brushed a tender kiss onto her still warm lips, closed his eyes and followed his beloved into eternity.

_June 21, 2011, Echo Park, CA_

Ellie Bartowski hummed a festive little tune as she arranged the bright white daises and greenery in the vase. She had just scored a major coupe and was happier and more energized than she'd been in months. John Casey had actually agreed to go to the carnival with her this afternoon. She set the vase in the middle of the scarlet-colored runner that was unfurled along the center of the rustic pine dining table and scooped up the two tickets resting on its edge. She grabbed her purse and keys, virtually dancing through the door before shutting it tight and locking it.

She practically floated across the courtyard to John's condo, knocking on his door with an enthusiastic, staccato beat. He had, of course, watched her walk across the courtyard, her graceful, flowing gait displayed on his perimeter monitors. It had bought him the time he needed to fix a calm, neutral expression on his face, replacing the surly grimace that he's worn previously. He was still unbalanced from having endured an exceptionally trying combat training session with Grimes. The nancified midget wouldn't be able to defend himself against a mall-style rent-a-cop, let alone an actual spy. He let the thought go as he went to the front door, preparing to open it. Ellie looked calmer and happier than he had seen her look in a long time, and he dared not do anything to spoil that.

He opened the door with a pleasant smile on his face. "Hey Ellie, ready to go?" She excitedly waved the violet tickets with _Serendipity Carnival _emblazoned in gold lettering, in front of his face. "I've been ready to go all day. C'mon," she urged, laughingly, taking his hand and tugging him out of the apartment. He chuckled at her eagerness. "Okay, just let me lock her up."

It was a perfectly warm and sunny southern California afternoon as they climbed into Casey's Crown Victoria. In deference to the beautiful summer weather, she had dressed in an emerald green sundress, and her dark hair hung loose, cascading over her tanned, bare shoulders. The warm upholstery of the Vic seeped through the cotton cloth of her dress and warmed her bare legs, which was a pleasant contrast to the air conditioned apartment she'd been cooped up in all day.

As he drove them to the Irvine fair grounds, where the carnival was being held, she admired the way the indigo-colored polo shirt hugged his upper torso and took particular notice of how his considerable biceps strained against the ribbed sleeve cuffs. She lingered at the open collar that had three out of the four buttons undone, revealing a peek of crisp, dark chest hair. She followed the bronzed skin starting at the hollow of his throat, all the way up the strong column of his neck, past that artistically chiseled jaw, settling for a long moment on his firm, full, sensual, lips. She did this with her head barely turned in his direction, studying him from under her lashes, covertly. All the while, he kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on traffic, never letting on that he was fully aware of her assessment. He didn't allow the smirk to turn up the corner of his mouth. _Appreciate what you see, Doc?_

The parking lot at the fairgrounds was packed, forcing Casey to drive up and down the rows for several minutes, before being blessed with a family of six piling into their minivan and vacating a prime spot near the entrance to the carnival. Whoever said that John Casey wasn't a patient man? He stole a quick glance at Ellie as he put the Vic into park. _All good things come to those who wait._

As they stood in line at the front gate, Casey performed a quick scan of crowd, nearby structures and exits, determining that there wasn't any immediate danger. Carnivals weren't his scene, especially given the large crowds, rigged games of chance and the high-priced junk food they peddled. But, if it gave Ellie joy and brought that drop-dead gorgeous smile to her face, he would do it willingly. He had a feeling she hadn't enjoyed many carnivals growing up.

It made him content, a feeling he hadn't experienced in quite some time, seeing her starting to emerge from the dark, desolate place she had been living in for the past several months. It had been almost a year, he reflected, since the emotional cataclysm rained down on her. In the space of a few weeks, she saw her father murdered before her eyes, discovered Chuck's secret, or at least part of it, and felt betrayed by everyone close to her. While it hurt and angered her that everyone had lied and withheld the truth from her, including him, she still couldn't forgive herself for setting in motion the events that led to her father's death. He didn't know if she ever would.

The shock and sense of betrayal she felt upon learning that Devon had known about and even contributed to Chuck's secret identity put an enormous strain on their marriage, along with the emotional turmoil that seemed to encase her, darkening the light that used to shine so brightly from her.

Devon was an excellent physician and a tremendously skilled cardiologist. His specialty was repairing damaged cardiovascular systems and restoring patients to health. He, however, couldn't mend Ellie's broken heart or suture back together the holes torn in her trust for him. They had sadly agreed to end their marriage and Devon accepted a prestigious position at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.

Shortly after her world imploded, and with her marriage irretrievably broken, she came to Casey. Initially, it was to rail and rage about all of the lies and deceit he had helped broker. He listened and bore the brunt of it all, including her pain, anger and humiliation. He didn't insult her by apologizing. Instead, he truthfully told her he would do it all again if it meant protecting Chuck, her and their country.

As her visits became more frequent and less vitriolic, he began opening up to her and sharing what he could and telling her directly when he couldn't, avoiding spinning ludicrous tales of public drunkenness and indecent exposure. Though fragile at first, they developed a friendship, which he slowly bolstered by being as truthful as national security would allow, and she began forgiving him and started seeing him as a man and not just an NSA agent.

One of their breakthroughs came during a rainy, early spring day when they both had the day off from work and she brought over tarragon chicken salad sandwiches and a bottle of sparkling pink lemonade to share with him. When she arrived, he was diligently tending to one of his bonsais, carefully pruning the miniature pine with a pair of small shears. She set the food down on his breakfast bar and pulled up one of the stools to the table where he was working, watching him trim the plant in companionable silence.

After a few minutes, he turned to her, holding the closed-bladed end of the shears, offering her the handle. "Try it." Her eyes widened and she gulped audibly as she accepted the cutting tool from him. "John, I don't know the first thing about tending a bonsai. I don't want to damage it." He gave a soft, low-throated chuckle as he rose to stand behind her as she reluctantly scooted her chair closer to the table. "You're a surgeon, Ellie."

He stood behind her, caging her body in with his, placing his left hand on the table next to hers, taking her smaller right hand in his larger one, gently guiding her to a low hanging branch at the bottom of the tree. "See the small nodules that run along the limb at even intervals?" he questioned. She forced herself to focus, desperately trying to ignore the heat from his body, the feel of his muscular arms around her, and the heady smell of his aftershave combined with the scent that was his alone. "Yes, I see them," she answered shakily, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Good, now cut just above the third nodule from the bottom." She did as he instructed, placing the limb in the mouth of the open shears, making a clean cut. The severed branch fell to the table, emitting a delicate, woodsy scent in its wake. She turned her head, looking up at him, smiling, with jubilation, accomplishment lighting her eyes. It was the first real moment of happiness that he had sensed in her since everything went down.

As she looked at him, he couldn't help but notice how close her mouth was to his; their lips were just a whisper away. He wanted to claim her mouth and kiss her. Hell, who was he kidding, he wanted to do a whole lot more than just kiss her. He wanted to scoop her up, carry her off to his bedroom and pleasure her from head to toe, inside and out, all night long, ensuring that she stayed enraptured for as long as possible. "Like a pro," he responded with a wink and a smile. "I think I spied something delicious on the breakfast bar," he followed up, his grin turning lopsided like it did when his mother caught him trying to sneak a peek at the Christmas presents under the tree as a little boy. Just like his mother, Ellie couldn't resist that boyish, sheepish expression, and she took his hand, leading him to the breakfast bar where lunch awaited.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. Tending to his bonsais quieted his mind and restored his calm more than just about anything else, so why not for her. A few days after her first "training session," Casey presented her with her very own Japanese red maple sapling, nestled in a glazed cornflower blue pot, its tiny, fiery, star-shaped leaves reaching for the sky. She had been caring for it meticulously, and they were both enjoying watching it grow and flourish in response to her nurturing touch. As the tiny tree thrived, so did their relationship, crossing over into that muddy gray area between friendship and romance.

"Hi there, little lady. Welcome to the Serendipity Carnival, " boomed the voice of the ticket taker, yanking Casey back to the present. Casey place a hand at the small of Ellie's back as she handed their tickets to the large, red-faced man with the oddly bulbous nose who happened to be dressed in the most hideous combination of a candy cane striped vest, purple button down shirt and lime-green pants. He felt himself getting nauseous at the prospect of having to deal with carnie folk all day long and forced himself not to sneer at the man as he handed the remaining ticket stubs back to Ellie and ushered them through the gate.

As soon as they hit the midway, the sights and smells of the carnival inundated their senses. Shouts of "step right up" mingled with the screams of people riding the tilt-a-whirl and roller coaster, and the strains of carousel music floated on the air. The smells of fresh out of the fryer funnel cakes and buttery popcorn made their mouths water. 

Eleanor Faye Bartowski was on a mission, and her goal was to take in every last aspect of the carnival. Three hours after arriving, her mission was partially completed. They walked side by side, Ellie juggling a stuffed purple unicorn with a sparkling rainbow horn, which John won for her at the duck shoot, a gigantic pink cloud of cotton candy and a corn dog. She was probably going to be sick later, but she couldn't care less. She was having a ball and had no intention of stopping. As they continued to the far end of the midway, John held an overstuffed fuzzy teddy bear wearing a top hat that he won for her at the ring toss, along with his own cache of nibbles, including a fried Twinkie and a gigantic roasted turkey leg. He groaned inwardly, thinking of how many extra miles he was going to have to add to his run tomorrow in penance.

She suddenly sped up, glancing behind her to make sure he was still there. "Look, it's a fortune teller!" she informed him excitedly. He could take a lot and had already endured plenty, all without uttering an ill-timed wise crack, but the hoodoo voodoo peddled by wily and cunning gypsy fortune tellers was not on his tasting menu for today.

"C'mon, Ellie," he reasoned. "Fortune tellers are the biggest scam of all. Don't waste your time." "I've never had my palm read," she pleaded, turning those soulful, gray doe eyes on him. He was lost and knew when to admit defeat as he dejectedly followed her into the darkened tent.

The flames on several blood-red candles guttered low in the dusky interior of the tent, casting shadows on the wall, causing the silver and gold-threaded tapestries that hung there and from the ceiling to glimmer. Smoke from incense curled in the air as they approached and took their seats at a small square table covered in a midnight-blue velvet cloth. A deck of ancient looking Tarot cards were fanned out and a bona fide crystal ball sat in the middle of the table. "Fucking hippies, I mean gypsies," he muttered under his breath.

Within seconds, a tiny old gypsy woman, clad in a gold head scarf, white peasant blouse and colorful patchwork skirt emerged from the darkened back portion of the tent. The golden hoops at her ears gleamed in the candlelight and a collection of gold bangle bracelets jangled at both wrists.

She took a seat behind the table, clasping her wrinkled and liver-spotted hands on the table in front of her. She looked at Casey and Ellie and introduced herself. "I am Madame Elena. Come closer young ones, so my old eyes can see you better." They scooted closer to the table and leaned forward. Now that their faces were better illuminated, Elena paused to study them, starting with Casey and then peering at Ellie. As she looked back and forth between them, she gasped, raising a shaking hand to her mouth.

Casey crossed his arms over his chest as he slouched in the chair, stretching out his jean-clad legs and narrowing his eyes, leveling an icy-blue stare at her, silently communicating that he had no intension of putting up with any of her hocus pocus.

The elderly woman slowly removed her hand from her mouth and gripped the table with all her strength, her eyes widened in shock. "Our king and queen, they have returned," she breathed, just before her slight form slumped forward and her head hit the table in a dead faint.

TBC

Glossary

_Ves'tacha_: Beloved

_Rom_: Gypsy/Gypsy People

_Gaje_: Foreigner

_Rom Baro_: King/Male Clan Leader

_Kralisi_: Queen/Female Clan Leader

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End file.
